


Angel Recovery Project

by keylimepie



Series: Happily Ever After [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Rescue, Castiel/Dean Winchester Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Does Karaoke, Drunk Castiel (Supernatural), F/M, First Time, Fix-It, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Spoilers for Episode: s15e18 Despair, Spoilers for Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: An ordinary woman attempts a very extraordinary spell and brings back the wrong angel. But he's here and he needs help, from sandwiches to love advice, so what else is a girl to do?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Happily Ever After [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043397
Comments: 42
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this like two hours ago, and it still beats the pants off the things that *some people* get paid to write. Yeah, that's right, I said it. Anyway, enjoy some weird unabashed self indulgent drivel. Happy endings galore.

Sylvia tapped the side of the copper bowl, shaking all the dry ingredients into the fluid beneath them. It was almost exactly like baking cookies, if your cookies were made of your own blood and the juice of exotic fruits and handfuls of dry herbs that were very expensive, probably poisonous, and definitely illegal. And then, the last ingredient. 

She carefully dropped the precious angel feather, the one that the creepy shaman had sold her after regretfully informing her that he’d already sold the last of Gabriel’s grace, but that fortunately he did have a feather around and that that would perform the spell much the same way. It would latch onto Gabriel in whatever realm he’d scampered off to and deposit him directly in her living room. And then he’d have ten years’ worth of explaining to do.

The bowl began to emit a bluish-white glow as she started to recite the Enochian words. This had never been her thing - she was no witch or anything of the sort, just a simple programmer who’d happened into a whirlwind romance with a guy who turned out to be an archangel and taught her a few tricks for her own safety. 

Finally, on the last syllable, the bowl began to vibrate, nearly shaking itself off the coffee table. The light grew brighter and brighter, and Sylvia instinctively threw her arm up in front of her eyes and ducked behind the sofa. The room was filled with rumbling like thunder, and a high-pitched sound like radio feedback that gradually shifted into a thin, human scream. 

When Sylvia could stand up and look around again, she was relieved to see that the room looked fine - not destroyed, every knick knack and book still in place. Nothing was changed, except for the presence of a crumpled up figure lying on the floor in front of the table. 

Curled up in the fetal position was a very unconscious, very naked man. And definitely not Gabriel, at least not how she’d known him. This guy was all thick muscles and tanned skin and dark, messy hair. Had he changed vessels? Was he injured? Was he even alive? Sylvia crept forward and tentatively grabbed his shoulder and gave it a little shake. 

“Hey!” she said. “Hey! Are you okay?” The guy groaned a little, brought his hand up to cover his face, and rolled over onto his back with a pained whimper. “Gabriel?”

“Where?” he said in a croaky voice, as if he had forgotten how to speak. “‘S he here?”

“Gabriel?” she asked again. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” he said. “Fuck. I think I’m… I feel like I’ve been through a rock tumbler. I think I might be human, though.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and finally opened his eyes. They were a startling, impossible shade of blue. “Hello.”

“If you’re not Gabriel, who are you?” She backed away and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the sofa and tossed it over his body, trying very hard not to stare. He was terribly good looking, after all, it was hard not to at least sneak a peek.

“Castiel,” he answered. “Who are you?”

“Sylvia,” she answered.

“Why were you expecting Gabriel, Sylvia?” 

“That’s who I was summ- c-calling. He should- wait, you said you are human but you seemed surprised. Are you not usually human?”

“No.” He coughed. He started to sit up, carefully, dislodging the blanket from his chest.

“You’re an angel?”

“More often than not,” he agreed. “But whatever you did must have brought me here without my grace.”

“Oh my god,” she moaned, sitting down hard on the sofa as her legs started to feel wobbly. It hit her, the magnitude of what she’d been messing with and how badly she’d screwed up. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” he said, waving a hand dismissively, as if she’d scratched his car with a shopping cart. “It’s likely that was the only way I could get out, and this is… much preferable.” 

“You must be cold,” she said. “Let me see if I can find you some clothes.”

“That would be nice,” he said, looking down at his body as if he’d just noticed. “I suppose I didn’t get to keep those, either.”

Sylvia dashed up the stairs and rummaged through her drawers. Being a short, thick girl with curves galore, she didn’t exactly have clothes for hot muscular dudes around, but she managed to dig up a pair of navy blue sweats with her high school sports team name on them, and a t-shirt that was a few sizes too small to squeeze over her chest these days. She also grabbed the least girly socks she could find and a big pullover hoodie with a software company logo on it that had been a freebie from the last trade convention. 

Downstairs, she found Castiel standing up and stretching, the throw blanket now sarong-style around his waist. She handed him the bundle of clothes and turned around while he dressed. Once he was done, she sat down and gestured for him to do the same.

“I am sorry about your grace,” she said. “I don’t know what went wrong, maybe Sergei was wrong and that was your feather he sold me? If there’s anything I can do to help you get your grace back, to get you back to where you were, I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Well, I was dead, so I don’t think I’d like that,” Castiel said ruefully. “But I do appreciate the offer. And yes, that sounds rather on-brand for Sergei.” He spat the name like a curse.

“Seriously?” she exclaimed. “Are you seriously telling me that I just summoned you back from the dead?” 

He shrugged. “Must have been a powerful spell. You were looking for Gabriel and he’s… did you not know?”

Sylvia felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. “What?” she heard herself asking, her voice sounding far away. It couldn’t be true.

“I’m so sorry. He died, two years ago. We were on a mission to another world. It’s... complicated. He was murdered by one of our brothers.” Castiel was looking at her with sorrowful, sympathetic eyes. “You didn’t know. You just thought you were calling him to you. Well, I’m even more sorry that you had the wrong feather. What a disappointment this must be.” 

Ten years since she’d seen Gabriel’s face last. She’d prayed to him often, and never thought that he might not be out there to hear her. It was hard to know how Gabriel had ever felt - they certainly weren’t some exclusive, committed couple - but she had never stopped loving him, hoping that she’d at least see him again. Sylvia frantically snatched at the tissue box with shaking hands as she started sobbing uncontrollably. 

Castiel sighed sadly and patted her shoulder as she cried and snotted and blew her nose and then snorted into further, ugly sobs. When at last she stopped crying and felt a little more calm, she said. “Still. I’m not sorry I was able to save someone at least. Did he like you? Did you like him?”

“I did and I believe that he did. Unfortunately, it seemed like we were finally getting close at last, on that last mission, just a bit too late. But I valued him very much. He was one of my favorite brothers.” 

Sylvia nodded and leaned back in the corner of the couch. “That’s alright then. If he trusted you, I think we’ll get along.” She crumpled the wad of tissues in one hand, and patted Castiel’s hand with the other. “So what do you do now? Do you like… ask Scotty to beam you back up? You know, request a Heavenly rescue?”

Castiel shook his head. “Heaven isn’t much these days. And God is evil, as it turns out.”

Sylvia blinked. “Great. Wow. Glad I’m an agnostic, I guess. Um. Can I offer you something to eat or drink?”

“Oh, right!” Castiel said brightly. “I can enjoy that again! Yes, thank you.” 

“C’mon,” Sylvia said, standing up. She led him toward the kitchen and gestured toward the table, indicating that he should sit down, while she washed her hands. “Any requests?”

“Do you have peanut butter and jelly?” he asked. “And perhaps some sort of soda pop?”

Castiel ate three sandwiches, organic almond butter and artisanal peach jam on keto bread, one after another, before he started to feel full. He was on his second bottle of Virgil’s root beer, and Sylvia had put out a packet of fig newtons and a little plate of pickles and lunchmeat and cheese, which she was picking at. Castiel found that he liked the fig newtons, and Sylvia smiled sadly. “Gabriel liked sweets too.” 

“When did you know him?” Castiel asked.

“Just about ten years ago. He… I knew something bad was up the last time I saw him; he seemed very concerned when he left.” She shook her head. “I wonder what he was up to… you said he died two years ago... all those years in between when he never answered me… I guess I’ll never know.” 

“Sylvia…” Castiel said. “He was a prisoner for most of that time. Shortly after… yes, I suppose not long after the last time you must have seen him… some terrible things did happen, and as a consequence of that… to make a long story short, he was imprisoned by a demon and used for his grace, drained of it constantly. It was a terrible, torturous affair. He’d only just been rescued-” 

Sylvia put down the piece of cheese in her hand. Everything she’d eaten suddenly felt sour in her stomach, and she bolted to the bathroom and threw it all up. Gabriel dead, Gabriel being tortured for years, why hadn’t she done something sooner?! Surely she could have done something. She sat on the floor in front of the toilet and cried again. 

Castiel appeared in the doorway. “I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned. I am sorry.” He filled a little paper cup at the sink and handed it to her, took a washcloth from the shelf and wetted it with warm water and handed her that too, as if he was quite used to caring for vomiting humans on bathroom floors. 

“What about you?” she asked suddenly. “Why were you dead?”

A smile came across Castiel’s face, eerie in the wake of that question. “For love,” he said. 

“Oh, this sounds like a story,” Sylvia said. Castiel offered her an arm and helped her up off the floor. “Tell you what, I’ll make some cookie dough and dig some beers out of the basement fridge, and you and I can dish all about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been just after sunset when Sylvia had done the spell that had landed the wrong angel back from the dead and into her living room. Now it was just after midnight and the final scene of Much Ado About Nothing was playing on the TV. The coffee table was littered with beer bottles, glasses, and half-full bottles of flavored vodkas and peach schnapps. All the alcohol she’d had in the house, in fact. The remnants of a bowl of cookie dough was getting warm and oozy, and popcorn was spilled all over the carpet.

Sylvia and Castiel were drunk. They sprawled out on opposite ends of the sofa, each tucked under a fuzzy blanket. She had talked a little about her romance with Gabriel, and Castiel had talked for hours about Dean. Everything that was endearing about him, and everything that was infuriating. Every adventure, ever misadventure, every fight and drama. 

“That is fucking _amazing_ ,” she burbled. “And after all that, you told him you loved him and then you _fucking died_?” she sniffled. “That poor bastard.” 

“What else was I supposed to do?” Castiel said. “Not die?”

“Um. Yes?” She sat up, a little too quickly and felt the room spin. “Whoa. Whoa. I mean, but you’re _not dead now_.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Not dead.” 

“You need to call him.”

“I can’t! I can’t call him; I told him I loved him! You can’t just… It’s my understanding that that sort of thing ruins friendships. Makes them uncomfortable.”

“Well you can’t leave him hanging. You said he was your _best friend_. You guys did so much cool.. Such fun. Good times. ‘S probably devastated. And the other ones. Brother. Kid.” 

“I know,” Castiel said, a guilty look on his face. “Tomorrow. I’ll call tomorrow. I just got back from being dead and I have half a fuzzy naval left.” He picked up the drink and chugged most of it, and wiped away tears at the corners of his eyes.

After the movie was over, Sylvia put on Moulin Rouge, a little too buzzed still to do more than click the next movie on her list. That turned out to be a bad decision, as by the ending they were both far too close to sober and ended up sobbing uncontrollably through the last of her box of tissues. 

“We should get some sleep,” she said quietly as the credits rolled. She stood up and stretched. “I am absolutely wrung out. C’mon, I’ll show you to the guest quarters. Unless you’re attached to the couch.” 

They went through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. At the bottom was a little alcove with the laundry machines, the water heater, and the furnace, and a slightly battered fridge, and the usual basement clutter of boxes and old junk shoved against one wall. On the other side was the set of stairs that led to a door to the back yard. And in the back wall was a door that opened into a tiny apartment. There was a wood paneled main room, with a small sofa and a clunky old TV on a table, and a kitchenette along one wall. There was a bedroom done in lighter wood paneling, the bed made up with orange floral sheets and a thick blanket with a wolf howling at the moon, and a tiny bathroom, just barely big enough for toilet, sink, and shower cubicle. 

“It’s a 70’s nightmare, I know,” she said. “I usually rent it out, but I haven’t had a tenant in a few months. So, you’re in luck.” She yawned. “See you in the morning.” 

Sylvia woke the next morning with a slight headache and cottony mouth. For a moment she felt okay, then she remembered. Gabriel’s dead, her brain screamed. Dead, dead, dead. And there’s an ex-angel in your basement instead of him. Her chest felt achy and empty, but she had to deal with this situation. She managed to make herself get up, wrap a robe around herself, and trudge downstairs. 

Castiel was already up, and from the looks of things, he was not terribly susceptible to hangovers in spite of his new humanity. Coffee was gurgling away in the pot, and he was peering in the fridge, frowning.

“I was going to try to prepare you breakfast, as a thank you for your kindness,” he said as she walked in. 

“Aw, that’s sweet. But coffee’s all I need, so you’ve already done me a huge favor there. Feel free to find yourself something.” 

They sat at the table, Sylvia with her cup of coffee and Castiel with a dish of cottage cheese and a banana. “There are so many foods that I didn’t get to try last time I was human,” he said. “Cottage cheese is interesting. Bumpy. I haven’t decided if I like it.” 

“Do you think you’re human forever this time?”

“Yes, I believe so. I cannot fathom that there is a way my grace could be recovered from the Empty, and it would be foolish to try.”

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not that.” 

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “ _Call him_ ,” she said firmly. “If nothing else, you need to find out if he succeeded in whatever crazy quest was going on. All you said was it was ‘world ending’ which I would usually take to be an exaggeration, but I’m getting the idea that for you guys that might not be.”

“I have no doubt that he did. He’ll never fail to save the world, my Dean.” He looked at the phone, the keypad numbers taunting him, and a little smile quirked at the side of his mouth. 

“I’ll be in my office; I need to get some work in. Let me know if you need to talk afterward. But you’d better call him.” Sylvia disappeared down the hallway into her home office and left Castiel alone at the kitchen table with his thoughts of Dean Winchester.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood in the bunker kitchen waiting for the toaster to pop. He was unshaven, the fuzz threatening to become a full on beard at this point. He hadn’t showered in days, hadn’t changed out of the sweatpants and t-shirt he’d pulled on after his last shower, and the hoodie he’d grabbed from Cas’s closet. Years since he’d been human and worn this, but Dean swore he could still smell him on it. He needed to believe that, needed to still feel that little bit of Cas wrapped around him.

He sipped from a coffee mug - half coffee, half whiskey. The mug was pale yellow with little bees printed on it. Cas’s mug. He hadn’t looked when he’d grabbed it. Shit, he’d grabbed Cas’s mug. What would Cas-

Dean moaned in pain and set the mug down, bracing his arms against the table as the grief washed over him. It physically hurt to stand up, it was like his chest was caving in, like Billie squeezing his heart all over again, only worse. He’d give anything to be back in that moment of Billie crushing his heart and Cas holding him up, so strong and protective. “I’ve got you,” Cas had said. But no one had Dean now. 

He ended up sitting on the floor with Cas’s mug, now topped off with whiskey. He let it burn its way down his throat as the tears flowed. It had been ten days now but it still felt like he was sitting against the dungeon wall, unable to process the magnitude of this loss. His toast went cold, forgotten in the toaster. He’d never be able to choke it past the pain of his broken heart, anyway. 

Dean’s phone buzzed. He jumped and looked around, certain for a second that he really was back in that dungeon having just watched the love of his life disappear forever. He took a steadying breath and looked at his phone. It was a strange number; he couldn’t even place the area code off the top of his head but his phone said it was New Jersey. He couldn’t think of a single person he knew in New Jersey. Must be another hunter, maybe a friend-of-a-friend. Well, he hadn’t planned on jumping back into it so soon - he wasn’t sure if he could - but he decided to answer anyway. 

“Hello?” Dean said. 

“Dean?” 

Dean felt like he’d been hit by lightning. It wasn’t, it couldn’t be. “Who is this?” he demanded angrily. 

“Dean, it’s me.” 

“No you’re not,” he said, his voice a dangerous growl. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you have just made the biggest mistake of your existence.” 

“I don’t regret what I did,” Cas said. “And I certainly didn’t expect to be brought back. I hope that phoning you wasn’t a mistake.” 

“The last person who called me using that voice was Lucifer,” Dean said. “So maybe try another way to fuck with me that’s unique, because I’ve already-”

“Lucifer?!” Cas exclaimed. “What the hell was Lucifer doing back? Dean, are you alright? Jack? Sam? Did Chuck-”

“First you tell me who you are,” Dean said. 

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition,” Castiel said, squeezing his eyes shut and reliving the memory of tucking that beautiful soul into his grace. “The one who rebelled from Heaven for you, who fought alongside you, who made stupid mistakes and fought _with_ you. The one who - who always loved you, every moment of it, even at our worst moments.” Tears dripped down his cheeks. “I’m sorry if I had to ruin our friendship in telling you, but I’m not sorry that I saved you. I would like to still be your friend, if you can-”

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice cracking. “Cas, is it really, really you?” 

“It’s me, Dean.” 

“What happened? Did you get yeeted out again - babe, I thought the Empty was pissed, I-” Dean coughed. “I wanted to save you but I didn’t even know where to start. Chuck is over. We won. Jack is… he’s the new.. I guess.. Man, I miss him, but he’s okay. Our boy did pretty good for himself.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Here he was babbling, and he’d sworn up and down, he’d promised himself over every fresh burst of tears, that if he ever got the chance again- “I love you, Cas. You could have had me all this time, sweetheart.” 

Castiel nearly dropped the phone into his cottage cheese. “Wh- what?” he squeaked out. 

“I _love_ you, you idiot. God! I thought it was- I thought you _knew_ , and that angels just don’t-” 

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, choking back a sob. “I… I love you too.” 

“So you’ve said,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Well. Guess that leaves us with just one question.”

“Oh?”

“Why the hell are you in New Jersey, and when are you coming home?”

“Is this New Jersey?” Cas said. He looked out the window. He hadn’t thought about where he was. There was a big oak tree in the yard, other houses in the distance, nothing distinctive to mark this as any particular part of America. “I didn’t ask Sylvia where-”

“Sylvia?” Dean blurted. “You’re with a girl?”

“She was performing a spell, trying to find Gabriel but apparently she had my feather instead of his. She’s been very kind about it. Given me food and clothes, let me sleep here, and-” 

“I see,” said Dean icily. “So is she hot or something?”

“Dean, I’m gay,” Castiel said tiredly. “So I really wouldn’t know.” 

“Sure she’s not a reaper?”

“Dean, that’s… I was… very confused. I’m certainly not confused now. She’s a very nice woman, and moreover, she’s quite distraught that my brother is dead.” 

Dean grunted. He had thought Castiel was dead ten minutes ago, and if you’d asked him in that moment he would have said that he’d prefer Cas alive and with some girl in New Jersey with an archangel fetish rather than being dead, but the jealousy was hard to shake. He couldn’t help but feel like something was going to keep them apart, and if it wasn’t going to be death it might just end up being something stupid like this. 

“Dean, I love you. There’s no one else I would ever want to be with.” 

Dean swallowed hard. “I am so going to kiss you when I see you again.” 

“I would like that,” Cas said with a soft smile. 

“Send me a pic?” Dean asked. “Can you do that with that phone?” 

“Um, yes, I believe so. Hold on.” He held the phone out in front of him and tapped the screen until he got a camera icon, pointed the phone at the kitchen window, and snapped a lovely shot of the oak tree outside. He then sent it to Dean’s number. “Did that work?”

Dean was silent for a moment. “Cas, this is a tree.”

“Yes, it’s just outside the kitchen window, it really is quite pretty here and-”

“Cas, you dork! I want a pic of _you!”_

“Well you didn’t say,” Cas replied hotly. After another moment of poking around and some muttering, he figured out how to reverse the camera and took a photo of his own face. He sent the photo and waited.

After a moment, the pic arrived and Dean inhaled sharply. It was really him, really Cas in all his beautiful, messy haired, blue eyed glory. Dean ached to touch that face. He had for a long time truthfully, but now that it was all out in the open it was even more acute.

“Please come home,” Dean said. “Stay with me forever so I can kiss that face every day.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. This was too good to be true; wilder than his wildest dreams. “Will you come pick me up?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a heads up that this chapter contains a brief, vague mention of sexual assault and suicide. Nothing happens within the story but it's part of a conversation being had.

Sylvia logged off her work module and stood up and stretched. It was mid afternoon and she’d completed all the tasks that were absolutely essential today. She kept expecting Castiel to pop in and she’d honestly gotten a little worried as the hours dragged on and he didn’t. 

She found him on the back deck, sitting on the creaky old glider watching the sparrows and finches crowd around the bird feeder. 

“You’re smiling,” she observed. “Did you call him or have you been holding my phone hostage all day for no reason?” 

“I did- oh I’m sorry! I didn’t even think to give it back to you!” He gestured toward the kitchen table where her phone laid. “I did call him.”

“And?” 

Castiel’s face lit up in a sunny smile. “He loves me.” 

“Yay!” she exclaimed. “Oh Cas, I’m so glad for you!” 

“He’s driving out here to pick me up. It will be a few days. I hate to ask, but-”

“Of course you can stay! Long as you need. In fact… I was going to suggest that we maybe should do some shopping. Get you a few things. You probably don’t want to stay in my old clothes forever.” 

“I haven’t got any money.”

“Pffft,” she said. “I gotchu. Least I can do for Gabriel’s baby bro.” 

Finding shoes to wear to the store turned out to be a struggle. The only shoes of Sylvia’s that Castiel could just about stuff his feet into were battered old lime green crocs. Fortunately, Castiel didn’t seem to notice that he looked like a fashion disaster.

“Got any preferences on where to go? I’m thinking Target,” Sylvia said. 

“I trust your judgement,” Castiel said. 

Together they picked out some basics, sneakers and jeans, shirts and socks and underwear, and soft gray fleece pajamas. “I don’t want to spend all your money,” he said, hesitant when she encouraged him to pick out a few more things.

“I’m good for it, really,” she promised. “I wouldn’t be doing half so well if it hadn’t been for Gabriel in the first place.” She plucked a blue polo shirt with thin green stripes off the rack and held it up to him. “This one makes your eyes _pop_. He’ll love it on you. You’ve gotta.” Castiel looked skeptical, but he stuck the shirt in the cart. 

They went through toiletries and Castiel smelled all the soaps and shampoos and deodorants before picking out what he needed. Sylvia was comparing lipstick shades while Cas sniffed each bottle of facial moisturizer, when her phone began to ring. 

“Hey, unknown number from Kansas. Is this your boo?” She held the phone out to Castiel. 

“Dean,” he said warmly as he answered the phone. “You’re not driving, are you?’

“I’m at a truck stop. Figured I’d check in on you while I’m stopped. How’s it going?”

“Excellent. We are in a Target. Cosmetics are overwhelming.” 

“Oh. Well, uh. Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” Dean said. “You helping your friend shop?”

“Something like that,” Cas said, putting the bottle of grapefruit melon moisturizer in the cart and eyeing the lip gloss display. “I miss you, Dean. It’s so nice to hear your voice.” 

Sylvia decided that lipstick could wait and that she urgently needed to look at bathroom cleaner three aisles away.

“Me too, babe. I… I’m no good with the words, Cas. I just need to be with you. Damn, I wish you weren’t so far away!” 

“Soon, beloved. Soon. Drive safely.” 

“Always do. Cas, I- love you. Love you so much.” 

“I love you, Dean.” He hung up the phone and settled on the tangerine flavored lip balm and went to find Sylvia. She was staring morosely at cleaning products, though she didn’t really seem to be paying attention to them. 

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, handing her phone back. 

“What? Y-yeah, I just wanted to give you some space to be schmoopy.” 

“You’ve been crying,” Castiel said. 

“I still can’t wrap my head around never seeing him again.” She started pushing the cart down the aisle. “Don’t worry about me, I just have to get through it I guess. C’mon, let’s get you a burner phone while we’re here.” 

They returned to the house and Castiel disappeared into the basement with his haul while she bustled around the kitchen, working on dinner. Bolognese sauce bubbled on the back of the stove and a spaghetti squash was roasting in the oven when Castiel reappeared, freshly showered and shaved and dressed. 

“Everything smells delicious,” he said. “Please let me help cook; I feel so useless.” 

“Can you make salad?” she asked. She started pulling vegetables from the fridge and piled them in his arms. “Go nuts.” 

Castiel took to the task of preparing salad with great seriousness. He carefully cut each cucumber slice and each wedge of tomato and arranged them beautifully atop the bed of lettuce. With pride he took his new phone out of his pocket and photographed the salad while Sylvia was setting everything else out on the table.

Once they sat down to dinner, Castiel said, “I feel like you listened to me go on about myself, and about Dean, at great length already. I would like to hear more about you this time.” 

Sylvia shrugged as she twirled the stringy spaghetti squash on her fork. “Nothing that exciting about me. I came to the big city for college. Columbia. Did really well and everything, but after graduation all I was getting was unpaid or low paid internships because… well, there’s a lot of bullshit involved in being a woman in IT. So I was at this one company and there was… quite frankly, there was a manager that wanted to bang me, and I was never going to get anywhere unless I took that bait. And I did _not_ want to take that bait. So here I was, sending out resumes and hoping I could bounce along to another company and maybe it would be different next time… and we got a new janitor in the building. And he was… really cute and just… he had this sassy sparkle to him, but I could tell he was just a really good guy under it all.”

Castiel chuckled and shook his head. “Gabriel.” 

“Little did I know. I hadn’t been the first girl that this guy had messed with. There had been a few others, and the last one before me… well he’d gotten tired of waiting for her to return his advances and he ended up attacking her in his office one day and… it messed her up so much… I had known that the girl in my job before me had killed herself, but I never knew why until Gabriel told me.” 

“So I assume that he dealt that monster his ‘just desserts’.” 

“He did,” Sylvia said. “He saved me. But… he was careless. I saw his wings, heard his true voice. I needed answers. We were already- entangled, I guess you could say, by then. And he told me everything.” 

“Were you two in love?”

“Eh.” She made a wiggle hand motion. “I don’t think we ever would have called it that. I guess that’s not exactly how either of us rolls. For a few years, he came and went. But he always came when I called.” 

“You must have thought that he abandoned you,” Castiel said sadly. 

“Mostly, yeah. I was so mad! I didn’t think that he could ever die, and I was certain that nothing in the universe was as powerful as him. So what else could have happened?” She shook her head. “And now you tell me it was another angel. And that not only that, but a demon overpowered him!”

“Another archangel, yes. Michael, he was always the most powerful. It wasn’t even the Michael from our world that we had known, but a different one. I’m sure this is all very confusing and strange. As far as the demon, he had help from some demigods with spellwork. And Gabriel was perhaps too careless there as well. Not that I’m criticizing him, believe me. I’ve made worse mistakes.”

They ate quietly for a while, and then the conversation shifted to lighter things. Castiel told her all about the young man they’d raised, paternal pride rich in his voice. He’d texted Jack with the new phone number, as well as Dean and Sam and Claire and several other friends, but only Jack had not gotten back to him. Only Dean’s assurance that Jack was just fine kept him from worrying. 

Castiel insisted on washing the dishes after dinner, and he scrubbed the counters and the stovetop as well, while trying to explain to Sylvia a little more of the confusing web of their family. It was a lot, and she really wasn’t sure she understood much.

Later they had another movie night. Sylvia painted her nails while they watched Tangled and The Little Mermaid, and snacked on Thin Mints and hot cocoa. She tried not to think about how much Gabriel would have enjoyed this as well. She’d always tried to keep a spare sleeve of Thin Mints in the freezer for him, and she became more and more despondent as they worked through the last of them. But there was no sense in saving them now.

She waited until she crawled into bed to start crying this time. The least she could do was not drag Castiel down into her grief when he was so happy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm sorry that this took so long, but it's been a wild 48 hours, as I'm sure I don't have to tell you. It knocked me for a loop. Y yo a ti, Cas.

Once again, when Sylvia got up in the morning, Castiel had coffee ready. He was standing by the stove with a spatula looking ruefully into a pan of eggs with broken yolks. 

“I have to learn how to cook,” he said. He sprinkled a little pepper on them and started stirring. “I guess scrambled it is.” 

“I could teach you some cooking skills,” Sylvia said. “I have an early meeting today and tonight I have knitting club, but this afternoon we should work on that. It would be fun.” 

“Knitting club?”

“Oh, yeah. You can tag along if you like. Or you can stay here and watch TV, whatever works for you. I guess I could skip it but…”

“I think I’d like to come with you,” he said. “If you’re certain that I’d be welcome.”

“We’re pretty chill.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and splashed creamer into it. “How’s Dean?” 

“Good, I spoke to him this morning. He stopped in Springfield, Illinois overnight. The car is behaving a little strangely, but he’s certain that he can coax her to behave.” Castiel smiled fondly and stared off into space, as if he was seeing Dean’s face and not the side of the refrigerator.

“Stir your eggs!” Sylvia said, laughing. The pan was smoking a little and when he dragged the spatula through them they were browned and crunchy on the bottom. 

“I think they’re still edible,” Castiel said, scraping the mess onto his plate. 

“Pile on toast, smother in cheese and ketchup and hot sauce. That’s my advice. Oof, it’s 8:20. I gotta bolt.” She walked out of the room and into her office to login for her meeting. 

After eating his disappointing eggs, Castiel cleaned the kitchen once again, and then he stepped out onto the back deck. It was a lovely spring day, and he wandered around the back yard. Sylvia’s yard was a spacious sprawl of small trees and shrubberies with grassy paths between. There was a gurgling fountain nestled between the deck and the door to the basement, and bird feeders and bird houses everywhere. He took a lot of photos with his new phone of the prettier views of the yard before thinking that perhaps Dean might enjoy another selfie. He experimented with this feature for a while, sitting on a bench with a flowery cherry tree behind him, until he managed a photo of his face that he hoped captured him at his best. After a moment of doubt, he finally hit send. 

Dean would be driving of course, Cas assumed that he wouldn’t get a response for a while, but just a few minutes later his phone chimed. -Damn- was all it said. Then, a few minutes after that, a photo came in. In the background was the corner of a building with some dumpsters and an air pump beyond it. Dean was leaning against the back of the Impala, holding his phone up high and angling it down toward his face. He was lit by the midday sun. The strands of his hair were practically glowing. And his eyes, oh. The sunlight brought out the golden flecks within the green. He was squinting a little, which wrinkled up his nose and concentrated his freckles. He was beautiful. 

Cas sighed wistfully. -You look exquisite- he replied. Then after a moment he added. -It’s nice to be able to tell you that. I always think it-

Dean replied with a kissy face emoji, and -I’m gonna get back on the road. Love ya, sweetheart- 

Castiel looked at the photo of Dean for a few minutes, then looked through the rest of his messages. Sam had sent him a hug emoji and said he’d see him soon; he was staying at Eileen’s place for a while. Jack had still not answered. Claire had just sent an eyeroll and said -Call me sometime, dork-

He pondered this for a moment, then hit dial. Claire picked up on the third ring.

“I’m going to kick Sam’s ass,” she said without even a hello. “That asshole said you were dead.” 

“He wasn’t wrong,” Castiel said. 

“Unbelievable,” Claire grumbled. “Well I’m glad you got un-dead.” 

“As am I,” Castiel said. “How are you, Claire?”

“Peachy. Apparently we all didn’t exist for a while but then Jack put us back again, which I never even would have known if Sam didn’t-”

“ _Jack_ put you back?” Cas said. 

“Yeah, that’s what Sam said. Guess my brother is kind of God now, which is too weird for words. I’m probably never winning at arm wrestling or Uno or, like, anything against him ever again.” 

Castiel nearly dropped the phone. “What else did Sam tell you about how things went down? Did they- is Chuck dead?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Seems like Jack just sucked all his power away like a cosmic Capri sun. So he’s just some creepy old dude now. Though if I see him, I’m gonna kick the shit out of him anyway.” 

“And what of… did Sam mention anything about Lucifer in all this?” 

“Nope.” She made a gagging noise. “Anyway, me and Kaia are going camping. Jody’s got this old pop-up camper and we’re gonna go spend some time in the wilderness. Fishing, hiking, campfires with s’mores. Feels like I’ve been hunting non-stop for a while and we need a break.” 

Cas chuckled warmly. “I’m happy for you. Have a lovely time, both of you. Be sure you pack appropriate weapons, just in case. And wear warm socks.” 

“Duh,” she said. He could hear the eyeroll in her voice, but also the fond smile. “What about you, what are you up to?”

“At the moment I’m in suburban New Jersey watching bird feeders. But Dean should be here to pick me up, perhaps tomorrow. Then we’ll see from there.” 

“Yeah? Haven’t heard from him lately. Sam said he was not coping well. With you being dead and all. Not surprised he’s driving all the way out there to fetch you. So, uh. Give him a hug from me.” 

“Will do. Goodbye, Claire.” 

When Sylvia emerged from her office just after noon, Castiel was in the kitchen, paging through a cookbook. “Hello,” he said with a smile. “How’d it go?”

“Meetings suck. Not the worst one ever, but still. I’m starving. Let’s cook something.” 

Castiel tapped the cookbook. “Perhaps we could do pancakes? They seem simple.” 

“Yeah, why not? Pancakes for lunch!” She bustled around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients. Castiel really didn’t need as much instruction as he thought, just a few tips on things like greasing the pan, finding the right temperature, how to tell when to flip them. After the first few came out well, they graduated to adding chocolate chips, blueberries, banana slices, and walnuts. Cas was handling it quite well on his own at this point, and Sylvia made a fresh pot of coffee and put out butter and syrup and whipped cream, and sliced some strawberries. 

“This is amazing,” she said as they dug into piles of deluxe pancakes. “I usually just end up eating, like, bologna slices and olives out of the jar for lunch.” The pancakes were light and fluffy, and with just a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. Castiel beamed at the praise. 

“Okay, so after this we should work on some other stuff. Maybe lasagna? Snickerdoodles? Carrot cake?” 

“Pie,” Castiel said. “I must learn how to make pie.” 

After they finished lunch, Sylvia dug in the pantry and produced a can of cherry pie filling and some baking chocolate. So they made a lattice-top cherry pie. Castiel learned how to mix the pie dough without letting it get too tough, to roll it out and flip it from the mat into the dish, and to meticulously cut and weave the top crust. They made another shell and baked it empty, filled with lentils for weight, and mixed up French silk filling. 

“This is my absolute favorite and I never make it anymore, so thank you for getting me to do this,” she said. She tried not to let the memories overwhelm her, of the chocolate filling dotting her cheeks and fingers, and Gabriel licking them off as she giggled and shrieked. Of them splatting pie filling onto each other and ending up sinking to the kitchen floor together in a passionate, chocolate frenzy. Nope, she definitely wasn’t going to think about that right now. 

Castiel seemed to understand, because when she dragged herself back out of the memory, he was sitting quietly at the kitchen table scrolling through his phone. He gave her that big blue-eyed look of sadness and empathy as she slid the fresh pie into the fridge and came to sit down. 

“For the knitting club,” he said. “Would you perhaps have yarn and needles I can use?”

“Of course,” she said. “But… you can knit?” 

“Well I’ve just been reading about it,” he said. “I believe so.” 

She shrugged. “Come check out the yarn stash then, I guess.” 

She led him through the living room and up the stairs. The entire second floor was one big open bedroom, both spacious and cluttered. The walls were pale yellow and mostly undecorated, instead nearly every space had a bookshelf, or table, or stack of boxes shoved against it. Books, papers, piles of clothes were strewn on every surface. 

“Uhh.. sorry,” she said. “I know it’s a disaster. This one’s the yarn over here.” She led him to a wire rack full of soft-sided cubes. Each little bin was stuffed with yarn. “Um, the ones on the top are things that I have set aside for something, but the rest are just… waiting for inspiration. So feel free.” 

She turned toward a nearby table and dug out a her canvas project bag from beneath a stack of books and magazines. Then she dug further in the pile and found a rolled pouch containing an assortment of knitting needles. 

Castiel looked through the bins of yarn for a few moments before picking out a soft green yarn, and another of lighter cream speckled through with tiny bits of green and blue and purple. 

“I can’t decide,” he said. 

“Take them both,” Sylvia said. “You’ll use them before I ever get around to it.” 

After a quick dinner of cheeseburgers, which Castiel had been eager to learn how to make, and sweet potato fries and kale chips, which he was a little less certain about, they drove the short distance to the library where knitting club was held. The sun was dipping low in the sky as they went into the building and down into the basement meeting room. 

“Hey everybody!” she said cheerily. “This is my friend Cas, he’s gonna knit with us tonight.” 

There were about a dozen people, all clustered around a few long tables. Several elderly women, but the rest were women closer to Sylvia’s age, plus a few children. Most had already spread out projects on the tables and were working on things, or helping others figure out problems they were having. Most of them gave Cas a cursory glance and then went back to their work with a distracted, but not unfriendly “Hello” or “Welcome.” 

Sylvia set up at the end of a table and pulled things out of her project bag. Her current project was a sock, which had proved to be very slow going and she was starting to wonder if it was more trouble than it was worth. Still, she decided to plug away at it. It had been very expensive wool. 

Castiel set up his phone to display the pattern that he’d found earlier and began on the green wool. 

“What are you making?” asked the stranger to his right, leaning closer toward him. “I’m Angie, by the way.” 

“It’s a headband,” he said, tilting his phone so that she could see the pattern. “I liked the cable knit design particularly.” 

“Making it for a special lady?” Angie asked, brushing his hand as she stroked the yarn. “Ooh, that’s soft!” 

“Oh no, he’s not a lady,” Castiel said. “He is quite special though.” 

“Gotcha,” said Angie, leaning back into her own workspace.

“So tell us about your fella, then!” called out an elderly lady across from them, who’d been following the exchange with a sparkle in her eyes. 

Castiel looked flustered, but he kept knitting as he talked about Dean. Meanwhile, Sylvia went to the other side of the room to consult with one of the more expert sock makers. When she came back, Cas had a decent start on his project, and the lady was needling him for more information. 

“He sounds like a bad boy. I’ll bet he wears a leather jacket. Does he wear a leather jacket? How about a motorcycle?”

“He- no, he doesn’t wear it anymore, but when we first met, he did have a leather jacket. No motorcycle, no, but a very nice car.” 

“Does he take you driving?”

“Actually yes. It’s one of my favorite things… he’s often very happy and carefree when he’s behind the wheel. I love those moments.” 

“Well, hold onto that while you can,” she said. “It’s over before you know, and then you’re old and your man sits in front of the television and never takes you anywhere!” She chuckled a little and thought for a moment. “But when it comes to that, when you’re too old to go sparkin’ in the car, just enjoy sitting on the couch with him too, because before too long that’s over, too.” 

The conversations in the room, little pockets of chatter here and there, shifted into other gossip, but Castiel continued to ponder this exchange. He hadn’t thought about it in so many words until then, but of course, it was true. He would grow old at Dean’s side now. It should have been frightening for a formerly immortal being, but it seemed like exactly what he wanted. 

Back at the house, they parted ways early. Sylvia had some revisions to a project to get done for work, and Cas went downstairs and laid in bed and called Dean, who’d texted half an hour earlier to say that he was stopping for the night. 

“What town are you in tonight?” Cas asked. 

“Just past Pittsburgh,” he said. “I probably coulda pushed through and got to you by morning. Still could if you say the word.” 

“I’d rather you not run yourself ragged,” Cas said. “You once told me that you required at least four hours, though I know that that isn’t sustainable and somewhat more would be optimal.” 

“Heh. Well I’m glad you’re a little more accommodating of my stupid human needs these days,” Dean said teasingly. 

Castiel felt a chill down his spine. He hadn’t told him. He hadn’t told Dean that he was human now. 

“I…” He felt the panic growing. Should he tell him now? Just like this, over the phone? What if he didn’t want Cas, the human? Was his angelic nature part of Dean’s love for him? Would it be better to know that now?

“Cas?” Dean said, a growing note of concern. “You okay, babe?”

“Yes, I… Dean there’s something I need to tell you.” 

“I’m listening.” Cas could hear the tight set of his jaw. Dean was bracing himself for something terrible. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you yet, but strangely I keep forgetting - not forgetting exactly, but it just didn’t feel like a big thing. And I know it is, but maybe-”

“Cas, what _is_ it?” Dean said. “You’re scaring the crap out of me.”

“I’m human now.” 

There was an agonizing pause. Finally, Dean sighed, a huge, relieved sigh. “Oh, Cas. Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry for what you’ve lost, but I am so glad to have you back. I wouldn’t care what you are. Angel, human, demon, wendigo, Jersey devil - I don’t care. I love you. And I would always, always rather have you.” 

Castiel sniffled, and realized that he was crying. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” 

Dean hummed a happy little noise. “So, uh… I guess you sleep now.” 

“I do. I’m about to do so as soon as we’re done speaking, in fact.” 

“Wish I was next to you. Wanna sleep all cuddled up next to you.” 

Cas looked over at the empty space on the bed and pictured what it would be like to have Dean lying there next to him. He could almost feel the warmth of Dean’s body, could almost smell him.

“Unless that’s… if that’s not something that you… it’s okay, Cas.” 

“I do want you in bed with me, Dean,” Cas said fervently. “I have always wanted that.” 

“You’re making me want to jump back in the car right now,” Dean said. 

“Sleep,” Cas insisted. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” Dean promised. “I love you, angel.”

“I told you Dean, I’m not an angel anymore.”

“You’ll always be my angel.” 

Castiel made a soft little noise. “I love you. Good night Dean.”


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, Sylvia showed Castiel how to fry eggs perfectly, and to cook bacon from chewy to crispy and everywhere in between. After that, they put together a lasagna, covered it with foil and tucked it away in the fridge for easy dinner prep.

“Dean should be arriving this afternoon,” Castiel said. “So I could finally get out of your hair.” 

“He’s been driving for days. You’re both welcome to stay another night. Besides.” She grinned and poked him in the shoulder with her finger. “Kinda like having you in my hair. I’m gonna miss you when you go.” 

Castiel smiled softly. “Me too. It’s been a lot of fun becoming your friend.” 

As the day wore on, Castiel grew increasingly nervous. Sylvia had put daytime soaps on the TV and was curled up on the couch knitting, but she couldn’t even concentrate on that with Castiel’s nervous energy. He had put aside his own project, hands too shaky to make the needles work, and was holding a book, turning back and forth the same two pages, and glancing at his phone.

Sylvia tucked her knitting project away in her bag and handed the television remote to Cas. “Good luck.”

“What?” 

“I have work. I really need to get a few hours in on this project. Just come knock on my office door when you’re ready to introduce your boo to me.” 

Castiel’s face looked utterly betrayed. “So much for moral support!”

“You have my full support, moral or otherwise,” she called over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. 

Castiel’s phone pinged. -In NJ. About an hour out. Car is still acting up tho- A moment later another message came in. -Can’t wait to see you-

-See you soon- Cas replied. He picked up his tea and sipped it and tried to follow the plot of the soap opera. 

*

Dean had stopped at a truck stop just across the Delaware River. He was too nervous to eat anything, but he brushed his teeth and combed his hair in the bathroom, peering critically at himself in the spotty mirror. Too many bags under his eyes, too many wrinkles, gray hair popping all along his temples, going soft and pudgy in the gut. What did he have to offer a guy like Cas? And that was just the surface stuff. 

He knew; in the back of his mind and sometimes even in the middle of it, it had settled in. What Cas said about him, how he saw him. The last remnants of Dean’s self doubt were hard to shake, but he knew, when he looked into his own eyes in the mirror and forced himself to be honest with himself, that he was worthy of Cas’s love. Dean shook it off and left the bathroom. Time to go find that angel and kiss him senseless.

When he slid into the driver's seat and turned the key, it took him a moment to register that nothing was happening. The Impala was silent. “Baby, no,” he said. “C’mon girl.” He turned the key again. “You cannot seriously be doing this now!” 

He’d noticed the last few days that the headlights and dash lights were dim, and yesterday it was sluggish to start. He couldn't remember the last time he’d had to replace the alternator, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Just very bad timing. 

“You gotta at least get me this last bit, baby,” he pleaded. He turned the key again. Nothing, not a thing. Dean smacked his head off the steering wheel and went back inside the truck stop to ask around for a jump start. 

Fifteen minutes later he was back on the road once again. Logic told him that he should go to the nearest auto parts store and get the car back on her feet rather than try to push another fifty miles, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to logic. Not with Cas waiting for him. 

Keeping the radio off was essential to preserving what little juice the battery had, so Dean found himself singing and humming an odd medley of whatever lyrics popped into his mind at the moment. The drive seemed to take forever this way. He remembered the last radio-free drive, Cas by his side, keeping him company. Somehow they never ran out of stuff to talk about. 

Dean pulled up to the address that Cas had texted him. An unimpressive white house with a green roof, just a simple little thing. The front yard had a stepping stone pathway that ran crookedly between shrubberies and gravel, from the sidewalk up to the door. A mailbox on a post stood near the sidewalk, bearing a decal of llamas wearing sunglasses. On the stoop next to the front door was a ceramic statue of a fat green frog wearing overalls and playing a banjo, and a welcome mat proclaimed “The Neighbors Have Better Stuff.”

Dean knocked on the door, then wiped his palms on his pants. All the times he’d knocked on doors in all kinds of nerve-wracking situations and here he was getting sweaty palms over Cas? C’mon, it’s just Cas, he told himself. Just-

“Cas,” he breathed as the door swung open. He stepped inside and reached for his shoulder - so used to restricting himself to brotherly shoulder touches - and at the last moment redirected his hand to reach up and cup Cas’s face. “Cas, I…”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, smiling, his whole face one big sunny smile. His hand moved up to cover Dean’s. They shifted closer, and Dean’s other hand grasped his chin gently. And then Dean moved in that last breath and brought their lips together, a delicate press that quickly shifted into something hungrier as Cas met him halfway there. 

Cas’s lips were so soft. He responded eagerly to the kiss, his lips parting, his arm sliding around Dean’s waist and holding him close. Dean hesitated, pulling back just enough that he could brush their noses together. He moved his hands to Cas’s shoulders, moved back just enough to look into his eyes.

“You taste like oranges,” he said. “Orange chapstick?”

“Tangerine,” Cas said. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it,” Dean said breathlessly. “Where’s your new friend?” 

“Work,” Cas said. 

Dean cupped his hand around the back of his neck and kissed him again. His other hand he slid down, palming Cas’s chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat against his hand. Life, pumping through his body, reassuring and strong. Cas was real and alive and kissing him and everything was right with the world.

Cas had one arm up his back, tangled between his flannel and his t-shirt, pressing them close together. His other hand landed on Dean’s waist, still and uncertain at first, but then he shifted a little and his thumb brushed Dean’s skin just above his waistband and Dean felt like he’d been sent into orbit. He made a desperate squeaking noise and with immense willpower broke off the kiss and pulled away, holding Cas at arm’s length. 

“This is way too good,” Dean said, gasping now. “We gotta… slow down a bit…” 

“Yes, I do see your point,” Castiel said. “Perhaps a blank check for further kissing is in order.” 

Dean chuckled. “I think you mean a raincheck, but I’ll take both.” 

Cas slid his hand into Dean’s. That felt nice, their hands fit together perfectly. “Come sit in the back yard with me and tell me everything. Claire told me about Jack, I… I scarcely know what to think.”

Dean’s face fell. “I wanted to wait and tell you in person.” 

“I understand. I do.” He raised Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed it, and Dean felt his heart go all warm and gooey. 

They walked out through the kitchen, across the deck and into the yard. Cas was barefoot, but the soft, cool ground didn’t seem to bother him. His dark blue jeans were cuffed to keep them from dragging in the grass, and he wore a lighter blue polo shirt nearly exactly the color of his eyes. A little weird to see him in different clothes. Not bad weird, but unsettling. It was a lot shifting at once, but Cas’s hand in his was soothing, grounding. 

They sat on the bench, knees touching and hands still clasped. Dean wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let go. “I stole your hoodie,” he blurted out. 

“Hmm?” Cas was gazing at him. Those blue, blue eyes. Dean was lost.

“Your hoodie, from your closet. I’ve been wearing it. I had so little left of you, I just needed…” Dean realized that he was crying as a tear dripped from his cheek and onto their hands. 

“Shhh,” Cas soothed, bruising his cheek with a thumb. “It’s alright.” He leaned in and they were kissing again, softly and slowly this time. Kisses and tears mingled, he realized that Cas was crying too when he touched his face. 

“I kept begging Jack to help, but I never heard anything from him. I guess I was mad at him. When I got home and you weren’t there… everyone else was put right back where they were. But the bunker was empty.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe he’d just leave you there. And he had nothing to do with this, huh. Just some accident.” He squeezed Cas’s hand.

“It could be that he knew that this was coming,” Cas said. “Or it could be because my death wasn’t Chuck’s doing and therefore not his business to unravel. I don’t know, Dean.” He stroked his thumb soothingly over Dean’s hand. “I love you.”

Dean lifted his head and looked into his eyes. “I love you, too, Cas.” They looked into each other’s eyes, each so full of love, and Dean realized that they always had been, this had always been in their eyes, it was just out loud now.

Cas snuggled against Dean’s side, with Dean’s arm around his shoulders, and listened to Dean tell him all the details of the events since his death. “I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself anymore, until you called me,” Dean said. “I never know how to keep going without you. But this time I wanted to at least try to be who you think I am.”

“Who we both _know_ you are,” Cas said. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled. “I guess.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Cas’s head. “And you’ve just been here watching movies and walking around the yard barefoot, huh?”

“I also learned to cook and knit,” Cas said. “Sylvia taught me- oh! Sylvia! Dean, I was supposed to introduce you! It’s been hours, hasn’t it? Come on.” Cas jumped up from the bench and pulled Dean’s hand. 

The kitchen smelled delicious when they opened the door. Sylvia was just pulling the lasagna out of the oven, all browned and bubbly. 

“Hello!” she said cheerily, whipping off her oven mitt and offering a hand to Dean. “It’s so good to meet you!” 

“You too,” he said, shaking her hand and trying not to stare any longer than was polite. She was not at all what he’d been expecting. Short, messy hair that was growing back to brown after what must’ve been something teal or blue or maybe green but just looked washed out and blah. Crooked glasses, no makeup, kinda chubby. And unnervingly friendly. She was nothing like what he’d expected Gabriel’s ex to be. “Man, I owe you. Like, a lot.” He squeezed Cas’s shoulder. 

“Well, you can help eat some of this lasagna,” she said. 

“Ohhoho, don’t mind if I do,” he said, clapping his hands delightedly. “Cas, was this what you were learning to cook?” 

“One of many things. If you’re good, there might be pie for dessert.” 

They followed Sylvia into the dining room. Salad and garlic bread were already laid out, and the table was set. She’d been done with work for quite some time, it seemed. There was even wine on the table, and a cold six pack of beer still tucked in the plastic liquor store bag. 

They lingered over dinner for a long time, stuffing themselves slowly, drinking and laughing over empty plates, then again with the pies and coffee and more drinks.

Sylvia asked Dean to tell her about Gabriel, and he hesitated for a moment, sipping his beer. “Well, we started out trying to kill each other,” he admitted. “But we got over that eventually. Nah, Gabe was a good guy in the end. He went through a lot of crap and came out swinging. I am sorry that he didn’t make it back.” He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but gave an imperceptible little shake and took another long sip of his beer. “Man, Cas, remember TV land?”

Castiel rubbed his nose. “Yes,” he said sourly. 

“Well okay, it wasn’t funny then,” Dean said. “He kicked your ass pretty good. Brothers, huh? I was pissed.” He told Sylvia all about the TV shows that Gabriel had put them through, about finally outsmarting him.

“Guess that was his turning point,” Dean said. “After that, he was more willing to help us. We wouldn’t have managed to save the world if it wasn’t for him, you know. It’s too bad he didn’t come to us instead of his pagan freak friends.” 

“They sold him out to a demon,” Castiel said softly. “We had no idea that he was even still alive all those years.” 

“I see,” she said. She pounded back the rest of her drink. “Well guys, it’s late and I.. I should get some sleep. See you in the morning.” 

She made it around the corner and onto the stairs before she started crying, and onto the bed before it turned into full blown sobs. Was this grief ever going to let up?

“She’s really hung up on Gabriel, huh?” Dean said, following Cas as he put away the leftover food and cleared the table. Dean leaned against the counter and watched him work. 

“I believe she loved him more than she’s been saying,” Castiel said. Dean stared into his beer with a frown. “What are you thinking about, Dean?”

Dean set his beer down and scrubbed a hand across his face. With a swagger he stepped closer to Cas, their faces just inches apart. “Thinking about that blank check,” he said, his voice sultry. He glanced at Castiel’s mouth.

“I thought you said it was a raincheck,” Cas said teasingly.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, dipping in to kiss him. Dean’s hands slid into Cas’s hair, tugging at the strands. Cas gripped his waist as Dean nudged him backwards until they bumped into the fridge, sending magnets scattering. Dean’s leg slotted between his, and Castiel groaned as Dean rocked into him. 

Dean angled Cas’s head to pepper kisses along his jawline and under his ear. “Cas, sweetheart, how about you show me to this basement bedroom, huh?” 

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Castiel said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a "fade to candlelight"; rather, I'm giving you the chance to avert your eyes if you wish before I turn up the **spice** in the next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no plot whatsoever. You could skip this if you really don't want the details of what Cas and Dean get up to alone at night.

Castiel had found a few candles in the little basement apartment. A lilac-scented jar candle on the kitchenette countertop, a trio of white pillar candles on the TV set, a half-burnt pair of braided avocado green tapers in a crystal holder coated with old wax, sitting atop the fridge. He had gathered these all in the previous days and placed them on the chipped old dresser with a pack of matches. As Dean sat on the chair in the corner and pulled off his boots and shed his flannel, Cas lit the candles. 

“You romantic sap,” Dean said warmly, coming up behind him. He slid his arms around Cas’s waist, pressed himself up against his back and dipped his head to nuzzle against his neck. 

“Is it alright?” Cas asked, dropping the spent match.

“It’s perfect.” Dean’s lips grazed his skin. “I… I don’t wanna make any assumptions, but it seems like you’re… well I wasn’t sure what we’re doing.” He felt Castiel tense up in his arms. “I mean- I want to do things! Didn’t know what you would want to do. For all I know, making out is your limit. What _is_ your limit, Cas?” He turned Cas around gently to face him and touched his cheek gently with his fingertips.

“I suppose I thought that we’ll undress and kiss for a while and see what inspiration we get after that. Touch each other’s bodies in various ways. I hope that there will be a few orgasms at some point. And I’m keenly interested in cuddling afterward.” 

Dean licked his lips and surged forward. His hands skimmed down Cas’s side as they kissed, and he worked his shirt up inch by inch, palming over his skin as he did so. When they broke off, panting, he pulled the shirt over his head, and let Cas yank his own shirt off, before they dove back into the kiss again. 

Cas’s mouth was luscious, and Dean took his time exploring it, gliding their tongues together as their hands explored each other’s bodies. Dean’s hands were eager to map every bit of Cas’s newly bared torso, every spot that made him gasp into Dean’s mouth and arch into his touch. 

Cas’s caresses were slow and deliberate, stoking the fire within Dean with a steady pace. And then he mouthed down to Dean’s neck and sucked on the soft skin there, and his fingers moved toward the button of his jeans. “May I?” he murmured against Dean’s spit-damp skin as his fingers toyed with the button. 

Dean choked out a “yeah” somewhere in the noises he was making. Cas somehow managed to unfasten his pants and slide them down his hips without so much as brushing against his erection, which was desperate for his touch. Dean stepped out of the jeans now puddled around his ankles and reached to pull Cas close again, but Cas seemed to be the one in charge now, crowding him backwards until Dean’s legs hit the bed and they tumbled into it together. 

Cas leaned his weight on his hands and gazed at Dean’s face in the candlelight. He was looking up at Cas with suche awe, and Cas felt the full measure of his love wash over him. Cas captured his lips in a kiss and shifted his weight slightly, relishing the feel of their bare stomachs and chests brushing together, but the movement pressed their erections together with even more urgency. 

They both groaned, and Dean’s hands fumbled at his waist, desperately, and freed him of his jeans, shoving them down his hips. Cas wiggled out of them, finally kicking them off his feet in frustration before returning to his position against Dean’s body, now separated only by their underwear. He slotted a leg between Dean’s, and Dean squeezed big handfuls of Cas’s ass, rocking them together. Slowly, carefully, they savored this, until the urgency to increase the friction grew too much.

Breathlessly, Cas mouthed down Dean’s collarbone, sucked on the salty skin, and then headed lower. Licking and sucking his chest, then down to the softness of his stomach. He placed dozens of kisses here, murmuring how beautiful Dean was. As he got lower, Dean’s whimpers and moans grew louder and more desperate. “You like this?” Cas whispered. “Shall I take these off you now?” He brushed his hand across the soft cotton underwear still covering Dean’s hip.

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Dean said. 

Cas freed Dean of this last scrap of clothing, and he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of his body. It took his breath away, how lovely Dean was. Cas could have stared all day, but he knew that Dean was eager for his touch, practically begging for it, and Cas could hardly refuse him that. He stroked his fingertips over Dean’s cock, from tip to base and back up again. Dean seemed to like that, and he trailed his fingertips over and around it a few more times, gently, barely a tickle. He dragged his fingertip through the fluid dotting the tip, and poked it into his mouth curiously. When he looked up, Dean was staring at him wide-eyed.

“That was so hot,” Dean said. 

“You taste good,” Cas said. He touched Dean’s cock again with his cool damp fingertip. Traced it around the head. 

“Do I really?” Dean murmured. “You could taste me more, if you want.” 

Cas hummed thoughtfully. He made eye contact with Dean, held his gaze and brought his fingertip back to his mouth and sucked the salty droplets off it, slowly this time. “I could, could I?” 

“Please,” Dean whimpered. Cas smiled a wicked smile and brought his lips to Dean’s cock. Slowly, he teased his tongue around before sucking Dean into the heat of his mouth. He bobbed his head down and sucked him further in. Dean moaned and threaded his fingers gently through Cas’s hair. Cas looked up and caught Dean’s eyes as he moved up and down, seeking Dean’s pleasure. 

“Cas, c’mere,” Dean gasped. “Don’t want it to be over yet, come kiss me.” 

They laid side by side and traded kisses. Dean slipped his hand into Cas’s boxers and closed his hand around his cock and stroked slowly. Castiel gripped Dean and tried to match his rhythm. 

“Together,” Dean whispered. “Let’s do it together.” He sat up and pulled Cas’s underwear off, tossing them across the room and narrowly missing the candles. He laid back down, lining up their erections, both hissing a gasp as they brushed together. “There’s so many things I wanna do to you, angel. Things I want you to do to me, but this time I just… I just wanna be able to kiss you, you know?” He cupped Cas’s cheek and kissed him, and with the other hand he began to stroke them both.

His hand really wasn’t big enough, and Cas closed his hands around them as well. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Dean murmured between kisses. “Makin’ me feel so good, Cas.”

“Me too, Dean,” Cas said. He thrust against him as they moved their hands together. They found a rhythm together, and soon their kisses grew more frantic, shorter, and sloppier. “I think… I’m close,” Cas groaned. 

“Come for me, Cas,” Dean said huskily. “Oh baby, I wanna make you come, wanna feel you, all over me- oh _yes_ Cas! Give it to me, cover me in it, I’m gonna come too, keep… just like that- _fuck fuck fuck, Castiel!_ ” With a final shout, Dean spilled over into Cas’s hands, into the mess he’d already made, all over them and mingled together on his skin. 

Dean made a satisfied little noise, his expression slack and stunned, though that soon settled into a lazy grin. Castiel dropped onto the bed next to him, too trembly to hold himself up anymore. 

“Love you so much,” Dean said warmly, slinging an arm around Cas and tugging him close. “We gotta clean up but I just need to hold you.” He pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead. “Was… was that okay, babe?”

“Dean, that was... splendid, amazing, awesome, I can’t think of the words for it,” Cas said. “Am I supposed to be shaking like this?” 

Dean chuckled. “Guess I really blew your mind. Hang on, let me get us cleaned up.” He slid out of the bed, padded into the bathroom and brought back a warm washcloth and cleaned Cas off. Then he tucked the covers around him and nestled in next to him. “So how about that cuddling? Big spoon or little?”

Cas shifted and looked at Dean apprehensively. “What are we doing with spoons?” 

Dean laughed. “Cuddle positions, sweetheart. Tell you what, why don’t we start you out with little spoon and see how that works for you.” He nudged Cas around until he could press his front against Cas’s back. “You get to feel more snuggled this way, but on the other hand you wake up being poked by morning wood. Just give me a shove if you want me to back off, k?”

“I think I might like being poked in the morning,” Cas said. Dean chuckled and kissed the back of his head. 

Castiel drifted off to sleep secure in Dean’s arms, and both finally got a much-needed good night’s sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to waning_grace! Thank you for all the advice and suggestions, I hope it's what you had in mind. ;)

Cas was proudly cooking breakfast when Sylvia came downstairs in the morning. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, the whole works. Dean sat in a chair and nursed a cup of coffee. “Mornin’” he said. “How’s your head?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I’m glad I’m not working today. The last thing I need is to stare at a computer screen.” She poured coffee, dug around on the windowsill for the ibuprofen bottle, lost among the dead plants and the dusty happy meal toys. “How are you?”

“I have literally never felt better in my life.” He gave Cas an absolutely syrupy look. Sylvia gulped down the pills.

Dean fidgeted with his coffee cup. “Hey, so uh. I really hate to… after everything else you’ve done… if you need us out of your hair it’s no biggie, I can find us a motel but… thing is, I gotta replace my alternator before I can get us home, because my car just basically died in front of your house.”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem. Do you need a ride to the parts store or something?” 

“That would be awesome.” 

“Yeah, sure. We’ll do that after breakfast.” Sylvia looked down at her dragon onesie. “Maybe I’ll change first.” 

They piled into Sylvia’s little Toyota, Dean riding shotgun and Castiel stuffed into the tiny backseat. “Put some tunes on,” she commanded Dean. “Watch your knee,” she added as she shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway, jamming the gearshift against his leg. “Sorry.”

“I thought that the driver traditionally picked the music,” Castiel said, squinting at the back of Dean’s head.

“What? No, no, no. That’s shotgun’s job! Pick the tunes, read the map, keep the driver awake if necessary.” She shook her head. “You must’ve heard wrong somewhere.”

None of the parts stores in Sylvia’s town had the right part, but fortunately there was one in stock just about fifteen miles away. The busy multi-lane roadway through the shopping district just outside of her neighborhood soon gave way to a limited access highway, tree-lined and oddly desolate in this overgrown sprawl of suburban neighbhorhoods and commerce. At the exit, they waited to make the left across a steady stream of traffic coming out of an office park, Sylvia growing increasingly irritable. Finally she nosed her way through until they had no choice but to let her cross, both she and the other parties honking and cursing. 

“Welcome to Jersey,” she said cheerily as they sped on down the road. 

“I guess so,” Dean said, exhaling sharply. Cas patted his shoulder soothingly. 

While Dean dealt with his purchase, Sylvia browsed through the accessories aisle out of boredom. She ended up buying a beaded seat cover, glittery fuzzy dice, chrome skull-shaped tire plug covers, and three rolls of blue shop towels just because they were on sale. She put the new accessories on while Dean pulled Cas in for a kiss before holding the door open for him.

“Hey, uh. I was just wondering if you would be willing to tell me about the spell you used. The, the angel summoning,” Dean said as they drove back toward the house.

“Well sure. I contacted this guy Sergei… I guess you guys know him too?” 

“Yeah, I know about that douchebag,” Dean grumbled. 

“Well he and Gabriel had done some business in the past, and I figured he might have heard from him. He hadn’t, but he offered to sell me the stuff for the summoning.” 

“What all went into it?”

“He said it was going to be grace, but it turned out that he didn’t have any left. I have to wonder if it was a total bait and switch all along. So there was the feather as a substitution, which of course was Castiel’s, not Gabriel’s. Some herbs and weird fruits - those he made me buy in bulk so I have a shitload left. And some blood.” She slid her sleeve up, displaying a large adhesive bandage on the inside of her forearm. “That part really sucked.”

Dean was quiet for the rest of the drive, but Cas and Sylvia were too caught up in their own chatter to notice him brooding.

Back at the house, Sylvia disappeared into the backyard to do her usual Friday routine of weeding and filling bird feeders. Dean went right to work on the car. Castiel sat on the curb nearby and watched over him. 

Dean laid on the pavement and slid the drain pan underneath and started the process of draining the radiator and disassembling all those parts that would have to come out before he could get to the alternator. He glanced over at Cas. 

“Ain’t this boring? You could go in and watch TV or something.”

“I don’t find television all that compelling. I’d rather look at you.”

“Flatterer. You wanna watch me get all filthy?”

“Well. I’ve recently realized that I do enjoy you filthy.” He winked as suggestively as he could manage. 

Dean grinned. “Well in that case. You probably want to stick around for the part where I bend over for a few hours.” 

Cas’s eyes widened. “You certainly have my attention now.” 

Some hours later, Sylvia wandered around to the front yard to see how it was going. The curb was strewn with car parts. Dean was sitting cross-legged on the pavement, sipping a beer, greasy up to the elbows. He and Cas were laughing about something, and Cas was holding a sandwich up to his face so he could take bites. 

“Alternator’s in!” he said. “Now just to put everything else back together..” 

“Oh, that’s good news. I was wondering… so, it’s Friday, and Friday nights I usually go to this bar… do you think you guys might like to come?”

“Hell yeah!” Dean said enthusiastically. Castiel bristled at his side. “Unless… babe, you don’t wanna?”

“Every time we go into a bar women try to have sex with you,” Castiel grumped. 

“Uhh, okay, first of all... yeah okay that’s true. But just because they’re trying doesn’t mean they’re getting. Second of all, they try even harder with you. You just never respond.” 

“I don’t respond because I have no desire for that!”

“Well excuse me for being bisexual and single for most of my life!” Dean exclaimed hotly. “Just because that’s how things used to be don’t mean I’m gonna screw around on you, because I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that!” 

Castiel still looked sulky, but he seemed mollified by that. “Finish your sandwich,” he said, holding it up to Dean’s lips. Dean sucked the last of it into his mouth, giving Cas’s thumb a lick for good measure. “So can we go?” he asked around the mouthful.

“Yes of course. I never said you couldn’t go.” 

“Mmm,” said Dean doubtfully, but without any desire to drag out the argument. “Does this count as our first fight?”

“Dean, we’ve beaten each other bloody, nearly to death on several occasions, to say nothing of the times we were on opposite sides of conflicts, deceived each other, went incommunicado for-”

“I don’t need the Worst Hits!” Dean exclaimed. “Shit. Okay. Nevermind. I love you anyway.” 

“And I you,” Castiel said. He turned around to tell Sylvia that they would be coming on her outing this evening, but she’d bolted back into the house at the beginning of the argument.

Dean stood up and stretched. “Alright Baby, let’s get you back into one piece.” 

*

The car repair was finished and the Impala was purring like her old self. Castiel helped Dean wipe down and pack up tools and tuck things away in the trunk. He was pushing the toolbox in to make room to stash the old alternator when he dislodged a crinkly paper lunch bag. He plucked at it curiously. “You didn’t leave an old sandwich in here, did you?” he asked Dean, who was just coming over with the drain pan.

“No! No, I uh- that’s nothing, Cas.” Dean took the bag and shifted the lid of the weapons compartment just enough to stuff it in there. “No mold experiments, I promise. C’mere.” He grabbed Cas’s face and kissed him, and Cas melted into the kiss eagerly. Dean smelled of sweat and grease and soil, and something about it reminded Cas of purgatory. That hug when Dean had found him by the river. He never could have imagined then that he’d someday have the privilege of kissing Dean, no matter how much he longed to.

Dean pulled back. “I should get in the shower. Too bad it’s only big enough for one.” He patted Cas’s cheek and gave him a saucy smirk.

“There’s grease all over my face, isn’t there?” Cas said tiredly. 

“I marked you up good,” Dean said. He laughed, entirely too pleased with himself, and walked toward the house. Cas followed, rolling his eyes. 

*

Since the Impala was as good as new, Dean offered to drive them. It was another new experience, one hand on the steering wheel, the other clasped Cas’s hand on the seat between them. He thought about finding a secluded spot to park and slipping into the back seat with Cas, sometime soon. Maybe once they were headed back toward home. 

“So what’s your karaoke song?” Sylvia asked, interrupting him from those thoughts. 

“I don’t… I don’t really…” Dean hedged. “Not usually. Is that what’s going on tonight?”

“Yep, karaoke night at Jill’s Grill. Two dollar drafts, nacho specials, and the radio station is there with a prize wheel once a month. I got a bottle opener last week.” She shrugged. “You don’t have to sing, but it’s fun. No one cares if you sound good.” 

“Live a little, Dean,” Cas said. 

“Me? You’re the back from the dead guy. You sing!” Dean said. 

“I’m going to,” Cas said. “Sylvia and I are doing the song from the film we watched together.” 

“Part of Your World or Under the Sea?”

“No, no. Moulin Rouge. Come What May.” 

“Are you Nicole Kidman or Ewan McGregor?” 

“This is it on the left,” Sylvia said. “Thank god,” she added under her breath. 

They followed Sylvia into the bar and she immediately called out a “helloooo!” and waved to people across the room, close to the stage. The bar was only about half full, and they easily made their way over to the large table. “Dean and Cas. meet Margo, Nora, and Stephan.” Handshakes were exchanged, and they all settled into seats. “We all met at work, though none of us work in the same places these days.” 

“Layoffs,” Margo grumbled. “Lucky enough to get in somewhere else, with a 30 mile commute.” 

“Sylvia’s luckier than the rest of us,” Stephan said. “Promotion and almost exclusively work from home. So jelly.” 

The waitress came and took orders before anyone could get too curious about Dean and Cas’s careers. The DJ arrived on the stage and began setting up equipment, and the crowd in the bar began to increase in size and volume. Margo leaned over to Sylvia, already too many drinks into the evening to be discreet, and asked “Which one’s yours?”

Sylvia snorted laughter. “Neither. They’re each other’s.” 

“Ohhh,” Margo said, a note of disappointment. “Well girl, we gotta find you a man. You’ve been moping too long. Just about as long as I’ve known ya. I know someone broke your heart, but…”

“I’m good,” Sylvia insisted. “Come on, we’d better get our slips in.”

Stephan was closest to the stage, and he went over and fetched them a stack of slips, pencils, and one of the song books. The DJ went through his introductory spiel, then sang a warm-up song. Song slips started piling up on his table. Two girls in tank tops and ripped jeans were the first ones called up and they sang a Beyonce song. “I like this one,” Cas said into Dean’s ear. He was on his second beer, and Dean suspected that he didn’t exactly know his alcohol limits as a human yet. He was absolutely adorable. 

“You would,” Dean said, putting an arm around Cas. “You and your terrible taste.”

“I like you, too,” Cas said.

“My point exactly.” Dean picked up the song booklet from the table and started flipping through it. Nora was up on stage, rocking out to “It’s Raining Men.” The rest of the gang were cheering and egging her on. 

Dean grabbed one of the slips and scribbled something on it quickly, then strolled up to drop it on the table. When he came back, Sylvia leaned over. “What did you pick?”

“You’ll find out when I get up there.”

“Oh boy.” 

They picked through a plate of nachos and an appetizer sampler filled with all sorts of fried goodies. Cas found that he enjoyed the onion rings and the french fries, but the mozzarella sticks and the jalapeno poppers were unsettling. He was dissecting a popper on his plate when Dean caught Nora looking at him strangely. 

“He ain’t used to good old fashioned bar food,” Dean said, draping an arm over him. “Weird religious family, you know.” 

“Ohhh,” she said. “Jeez, that must have been rough. Did they take it well? You know, you being… uhh… you guys being together?” 

“Pfft, no. His dad hates my guts. World’s biggest asshole.” His hand tightened on Cas’s shoulder and they exchanged a look. “You were always too good for them anyway.” 

“Dean…” Cas said warmly. They looked into each other's eyes, too much to say out loud in a crowded bar. 

“Cas, we’re next,” Sylvia said, nudging his foot under the table.

“Break a leg, sweetheart,” Dean said as Cas stumbled his way toward the stage, assisted by Sylvia giving him an arm to lean on. “Oh god he’s so drunk,” Dean giggled delightfully, looking at the three empty glasses by his plate. “Shit, where’s my phone?” As the song started playing and Castiel looked at the microphone in his hand, Dean started recording. 

Cas had the bulk of the early part of the song. What he lacked in pitch control, he made up for in emotion. Dean knew the song, of course he’d seen the movie a few times and he had a basic idea of how it went, but hearing those words of love and devotion coming out of Cas’s mouth, it was like he was pouring his heart out to Dean all over again. “Listen to my heart, can’t you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything,” he belted out, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat. Cas was so earnest and open, and Dean cast a glance around the room. Just about every woman in there and a good handful of the dudes were entranced by him.

Sylvia’s part finally came around and she was a pretty decent singer, it turned out. A little more wistfulness in her performance, and by the end of it Dean thought he’d seen the sparkle of tears around her eyes, though she was still smiling and having a great time up there. They handed the mics back to the DJ and she gave Cas a hug, which turned into helping him navigate the steps to get him off the stage without faceplanting. Dean ended the video and immediately sent it to Sam. 

He stood up as Cas got back to the table and gave him a kiss. Maybe a little too showy, but he needed the whole bar to know exactly whose guy Cas was.

Stephan went up next with some Eminem crap. Then a few other people from the crowd. Dean ordered beer number two and got Cas a water. “You gotta slow down babe, I’ll be carrying you home.” 

“You’re strong and that sounds like good. Fun,” Cas burbled. “I think I like nachos.” 

Dean nudged the plate towards him. “All yours. Oh, hey, looks like I’m singing next! Yo Sylvie, keep him more or less upright?” 

“‘M fine,” Cas said as Dean stood up to leave. 

“Shots!” Margo announced, having just come back from the bar. She passed them around to everyone. Dean paused to throw back the shot before heading toward the stage, Cas copying his movement. So much for him sobering up. 

Dean made it onto the stage and grinned out into the crowd as the music started. He was starting to feel good about this. Why had he hesitated to participate, this was great! 

“Well I’m ever upper class, high society,” Dean began, trying to affect the accent as best he could. “God’s gift to ballroom notoriety.” 

“This is a strange song,” Cas said. 

“Oh god, what a choice!” Sylvia hooted. 

“...the social pages say I’ve got the biggest balls of all,” Dean sang. That last shot had given him just the right amount of social lubricant to really get into this. “Sing along if you know it, folks! I’VE GOT BIG BALLS! I’VE GOT BIG BALLS!” He started dancing and waving one arm in the air to the rhythm. The crowd was getting into it too, most of them shouting along or giggling, and dancing in their seats. “...my ballroom always full, and everybody comes and comes again.” On this line he made eye contact with Cas and winked. Cas looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and hide. 

After the song, Dean exited the stage to applause, and people leaning in and telling him “great job” and “that was fun!” all the way back to his seat. He sat back down next to Cas and tucked an arm around his shoulder. 

“That was… interesting,” Cas said. 

“Everyone loved me,” Dean said. “I was awesome.” 

“I sing a p-poignant love song and you tell the- tell the entire bar about your balls.” But a smile was twitching at the corner of his mouth, and in a moment they were both laughing. 

Sylvia was up soon afterwards. Dean really wasn’t paying attention until she launched into the chorus with heartbreaking fervor. “Til now! I always got by on my own! I never really cared until I met you!” she belted out. “And now it chills me to the bone. How do I get you alone?” The song gave Dean chills too. He could feel that acute sense of loss all too well. He watched her and thought about Gabriel. Not just for Sylvia’s sake, but the world would have benefited from Gabriel still being alive.

Margo went up next, some sexy Britney Spears number. Sylvia and her friends cheered her on as she danced and sang through the whole thing. Afterward she wandered over to the bar and let men buy her drinks. She didn’t seem to have any intention of going home alone.

The night was winding down, the crowd thinning out. Dean picked up one of the remaining song slips on the table, brushed nacho crumbs from it, and filled it out. He dropped it on the dwindling pile on the DJ’s table and returned to his seat. 

Cas was stabbing viciously with his straw at the lemon in his glass of water. “Are you going to sing me a nice song?” he asked. He was only a little tipsy now, though Dean wasn’t sure if he was going to make it to the car completely unassisted. 

“Maybe,” Dean replied. “Wait and see.” 

They didn’t have long to wait; Dean was called up soon afterwards. “This one’s for my guy Cas,” Dean announced into the microphone. “Love ya sweetheart.”

He didn’t have the advantage of alcohol in his system this time, so he was running on pure passion. He looked at Cas as the song began. That was enough. 

“Ohhh thinkin’ about our younger years,” he crooned. The dwindling bar patrons had pretty much tuned out from the karaoke experience at this point; they were not expecting the beauty and emotion of Dean’s voice. People were suddenly all looking at the stage again. “There was only you and me, we were young and wild and free.” He thought about the early days of the first apocalypse. Cas rebelling for free will. For him. 

“Now nothing can take you away from me. We’ve been down that road before. But that’s over now. You keep me coming back for more.” Never were truer words sung, Dean was sure. “Baby you’re all that I want, when you’re lying here in my arms, I’m finding it hard to believe, we’re in Heaven.” He hazarded a look at Cas. Cas was gazing at him with such open longing, and it hit him all at once that he’d been an idiot not to have ever seen it before.

As Dean slid back into his seat after the song, Cas squeezed his hand. “Now who’s the romantic sap?” Cas murmured. 

“Did you like that one better?” 

“Decidedly,” Cas said. His eyes were sparkling. Dean was so in love.

Sylvia went up to the bar and came back with drinks - Irish coffees for her and Cas, and a regular coffee for Dean. “Best way to end the night,” she said. Dean watched Cas sip at the booze-heavy drink. He wanted to kiss the whipped cream off his upper lip, but once he started he knew he wouldn’t want to stop.

The DJ called up a few more people, then closed the evening out. The bar still had a few hours until closing time, but with karaoke over most people were leaving. They filed out into the chilly night and across the parking lot. Cas only stumbled twice, Dean catching him both times. He would have nudged him up against the nearest car for a thorough makeout session if Sylvia hadn’t been right behind them. 

“That was pretty awesome,” Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Did you have a good time?” He caught her eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“I did. I’m glad you guys came.” She smiled, and Dean noticed that the smile didn’t make it to her eyes. “You’ll keep in touch, right? Maybe come for a visit sometime?” 

“‘f course!” Cas said loudly. “I’m very good at testing- texting people.” 

“I gotta take Cas to the beach this summer,” Dean said. “You’ve got a beach around here somewhere, right?” 

“About ten miles that way,” she said. 

“Nice. Maybe get a little beach house for the week. Watch the sunrise. What do you think Cas?” Silence. “Cas?” A gentle snore was all that answered him. Cas was slumped over sideways, his face smushed into the window glass. “You’re cleaning the drool off that window tomorrow,” he said fondly. 

Cas woke up enough to make it to bed, grumbling about stupid human urination as he detoured into the bathroom. Dean tried to tuck him in without stirring anything up, but Cas was apparently a horny drunk. Dean undressing him and pulling the covers up around them both turned into frantic kissing and messy handjobs. Cas cried afterwards. “I just love you so much,” he said. “I’m not sad, I promise.” 

“I get it,” Dean said. “Now I’m crying because you are.” He kissed Cas’s cheeks. “Get some sleep angel. We’ve got a lot of driving coming up.” 

*

Dean woke up from a bad dream. The little alarm clock with the red numbers said it was just after 3 a.m. Cas was gone; his side of the bed was cold.

“Cas?” Dean said, sitting up. He got up to check the bathroom; maybe he went to piss and forgot how it worked. But the bathroom was empty, the whole of the basement apartment empty. Midnight snack, Dean wondered? He went up the stairs. 

“Cas?” he called in a hoarse whisper. “Baby, you up here?” He tiptoed through the kitchen, down the hallway that led to the bathroom and Sylvia’s office. Nothing and no one, they were quiet and still. He went into the living room and the dining room, still nothing.

“Castiel?” he called, panic clawing at his chest. He would never survive losing him again. This couldn’t be happening. He glanced up the stairs that led to Sylvia’s room. Should he… should he check there? A chill ran through him, he dismissed the idea as idiotic… but then again, he didn’t really have another idea. Dean ran his hands through his hair. He wanted to scream.

And then he glanced out the window. The interior lights of the Impala were on. Of course, he must’ve lost his phone or something, went to check the car. Hopefully it wasn’t lost at the bar. Dean opened the front door and jogged over to it, heedless of the fact that he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. 

The trunk lid was open, as was the passenger door. Cas was sitting on the seat clad in pajamas, his bare feet on the ground. He was looking into a paper bag.

“Dean Winchester,” he said, looking up. His face was like thunder. “I think you had better start talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not yet heard Jensen Ackles sing "Heaven" then get you to youtube and have a religious experience. I'm not even particularly a Jensen girl but like damn.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel sighed. He was warm and content at Dean’s side and he didn’t want to move, but his traitorous body was insisting that urination needed to occur yet again. He slipped carefully out of the bed, blew a kiss to Dean, and went to the bathroom. 

While he waited for this ritual to be completed, he had some time to think about something that had been bothering him most of the day, ever since he’d helped Dean clean up from fixing the car. He’d known Dean long enough and well enough to figure out when he was trying to conceal something. With jokes, distractions - the kissing was new, of course. But the way he’d dodged the issue could only indicate that it was significant. Castiel went back into the bedroom and slipped the car keys from Dean’s pocket. 

It was chilly outside, colder than he’d been expecting. His feet complained about the cold stones of the pathway and the gritty pavement by the car as he unlocked the trunk and rummaged around the weapons compartment. He found the crinkle of paper and pulled it out. 

Human eyes didn’t see very well in the dim light from the distant streetlights. He opened the car door to make the light come on, and sat on the seat to see what it was that Dean had been so eager to keep from him. 

He needn’t have bothered with the light. In the bottom of the bag was a small glass vial emitting a glow. It was faint, barely there, just a few drops in the bottom, but it was a bottle of angel grace. 

That was not the only thing in the bag. Three feathers were tucked into the bag as well, flanking the little glass bottle. With human senses, Castiel could never identify the owner of the grace in that bottle, but he knew without a doubt where those tawny golden feathers had come from.

*

Dean stood in front of him, opening and closing his mouth like an idiot. “Cas,” he said desperately. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I couldn’t find you?”

“Why do you have these, Dean?” Castiel demanded. He stood up, toe to toe with Dean, bristling with anger. “Why would you keep these from her? After everything-”

“I was going to give them to her!” Dean said. “Jesus, Cas. I just wanted to be sure. I couldn’t decide… kept going back and forth… is it wrong to interfere? What’s the risk? This stuff always ends up biting us in the ass. You know that!” 

Cas sighed and his shoulders slumped. “But why would you keep it from _me_? We could have decided together. Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?” 

Dean’s face crumpled with shame. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” 

Castiel blinked. He hadn’t quite been expecting that. “Well. If you had asked me, I would have told you that… yes, we are risking some unknown outcome, with something of this magnitude. Even if we don’t know what it might be… we never seem to know until it happens, do we? And yet, this is the right thing to do. We risk things to save people. Especially family. That’s who you are, and who you taught me to be.” 

“Cas…” Dean said helplessly. He reached out toward Cas’s face, brushed his cheek with a thumb. Cas sighed and relaxed toward him.

“Shall we go inside and tell her?”

“Tell who what?” said Sylvia. They both turned in unison and saw her standing on the pathway, clad in a quilted housecoat and fuzzy socks. “What the hell is going on? Why are you fighting outside my bedroom window in the middle of the damn night?” 

Cas smiled at her. “We have good news,” he said. 

*

The clock had just chimed 4 am and the three of them were seated in the living room. Sylvia was looking at the three feathers and the vial of grace, now laid out on the coffee table. “You’re sure they’re Gabriel’s? We’re not going to end up with, like… Bob or Larry or Bruce the angel this time?” 

“Those are definitely Gabriel’s feathers,” Castiel said. “I’ve seen his wings.”

“The vial is from when Ketch rescued him… uh, long story. But this was definitely his. I don’t know if it’ll make any difference, but when Cas mentioned him in his phone call, I decided to grab everything we had. Just in case.” 

“So, what’s the hold up? Let’s get on with it!”

“This ain’t risk free,” Dean said. “You know that, right? Things could still go wrong. You got lucky once. Magic always has a price.” 

Sylvia’s lower lip began to tremble. “I think we’ve all paid in advance.” 

*

Dean and Cas stood by, ready in case there was any unforeseen trouble. Sylvia knelt on the floor in front of the table and sliced her arm, dripping the bright red blood into the bowl. When that was finished, Cas helped her press a bandage to the wound, Dean began to crumble the various ingredients into the bowl. 

Sylvia popped the lid off the grace container and shook the precious drops into the disgusting mixture in the bowl. Then she dropped in the feathers and began to recite the incantation. 

Just like before, the bowl began to shake and emit a bluish-white light. But it was much, much brighter this time; she ducked away and covered her eyes. Dean threw an arm across his face and slapped his other hand across Castiel’s. “You’re human, dumbass,” he reminded him. As the light increased in intensity they both ended up turning away and ducking down. 

Thunder boomed deafeningly, shaking the room, and a high pitched screaming noise shattered the lightbulbs and the nearest window. 

When it finally stopped, Dean and Cas reached for each other, and after the brief wordless check, moved toward Sylvia. She laid on the floor, her arms up over her head, but she sat up when Cas tapped her shoulder. “Is it- did it work?”

They all peered around the table. There, lying spread eagle, was Gabriel’s very unconscious, very naked form.

“Gabriel!” Sylvia exclaimed, crawling over toward him. She touched his chest, felt the rise and fall. “He’s alive. He’s alive. Gabriel, wake up!” she shook his shoulder and tapped his cheeks. “C’mon sugar, wake up.” 

He groaned painfully. “Mmph. No don’t… don’t hurt her… Emerson, lookout,” he mumbled.

“What?” she said. “Gabriel come on, wake up!” 

“I don’t want to go to camp, there are flying turtles!”

She shook his shoulders again. “You’re not making any sense, Gabriel.” 

“He has been dead for a few years, perhaps that’s harder to wake up from,” Castiel suggested. “Empty dreams can be odd. I wasn’t there for very long and I wrote a cookbook.” 

“Did you make anything good?” Dean asked. 

“There was a lot of kale,” Cas said thoughtfully. “Perhaps what Gabriel needs is a shock to the system. I’ll go get a cold washcloth.”

“Get him some clothes,” Dean said, his face crinkled up. “My system’s feeling pretty shocked.”

“Gabriel,” Sylvia called again, more urgently. “Wake up, my sweet angel.” 

“I can’t believe you scheduled my meet and greet this early,” he mumbled. “Did I miss karaoke?”

“Uhhh… yes? But we can go next week.” 

“Please no Sunday people.” 

“Okay, no Sunday people. Just wake up.” 

Castiel returned from the bathroom with the cold washcloth. “I understand if you wipe the face it may- Or. That,” he concluded as Sylvia dropped the icy cloth directly on his crotch. 

“CURRAHEE!” Gabriel exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. He opened his eyes and looked around. “Sylvia! I was having the weirdest dreams.” He rubbed his hands across his face. “Wait, why am I here? … Why are they here?” 

“You were dead,” Castiel said. “Some time has gone by. We were only just able to bring you back. You may wish for some clothes. It can get cold being human.” He handed Gabriel a bundle of green fleece, the first piece of clothing he’d been able to grab. 

“A dragon onesie?” he said. “Neato!” He tossed the wet washcloth away and pulled the onesie on, bouncing to his feet as he did so. Dean offered Sylvia a hand and pulled her to her feet. She was still a little unsteady but managed to stand on her own. 

“Nice to see you again,” Sylvia said casually to Gabriel. “Were you ever going to come visit?” 

“Honey, I was dead,” he said. “And I was going through some stuff before that.” 

“Still.” 

“Well I’m here now.” He tilted his head and gave her a little pout. She melted and pulled him into a big, teary hug that soon shifted into a kiss. His hands stroked her face and her hair, and then Dean was clearing his throat and they pulled apart again.

“Good to have you back, man,” Dean said, slapping at his shoulder. And Cas moved in for a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m here for you if you should ever need to discuss the transition into humanity,” Castiel said. “Going through it for the second time myself, I think I may have some insight.”

“I’m… not?” Gabriel said in confusion. “I mean, I’m not a hundred percent, but…” his eyes flared with blue light for a moment. “I’ve still got it.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Sylvia breathed. “That is _hot._ ”

“Let me see those arms, sweet cheeks.” He reached out and healed the slashes on both of her forearms, and then smoothly swept her into an embrace and kissed her soundly. 

“Oh _fuck_ I missed you,” she gasped as he kissed down her throat. He lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding her steady with no effort at all.

“And that is our cue to leave,” Dean said urgently, bolting from the room. “Cas, c’mon! I’ve already seen this movie, and I do not need the sequel.” Castiel followed him down the basement stairs a moment later.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly smut but there is plot again eventually. It just didn't feel right to split the chapter.

Gabriel was vaguely aware of Dean and Cas’s hasty departure as he pressed Sylvia up against the wall and adjusted her legs, pulling them higher around his waist so he could grind against her. Not that he cared; he would have gone for this with an audience. He kissed her hungrily and then drew back to look at her. 

“What are we doing exactly?” he asked. 

“Desperate ‘I thought you ditched me for years and then I found out you were dead but now you’re not’ sex?” she suggested. “Or I can make you cookies. Dealer’s choice.” 

Gabriel hummed as if he was mulling it over. “Fuck first, then cookies.” 

“Good plan. Great plan,” she agreed as he dove in to suck on her throat near her collarbone. He tugged down the zipper at the front of her housecoat and slid his hand inside the tank top beneath, curving it around her breast and squeezing with an appreciative sigh. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, and when she gasped, he chuckled and thrust against her, turning her gasp into a needy moan. 

“I’ll bet you’re so wet for me already, aren’t you? I’ll bet you want this so bad.” He bent down and sucked on her nipple, moaning with delight, and dragged his teeth across it. 

“You- you’re right about that,” she panted. Already her blood felt like fire, particularly where he kept grinding against her, she could feel the answering thrum of her pulse. “I need it. I need you, Gabriel. Fuck, sugar, that feels so good,” 

He slid the housecoat up higher on her hips, shoving the fabric out of his way, and brought his hand between them, between her legs. “Why are you wearing underwear?” he whined. “Dammit.”

“You’re wearing my dragon onesie, so we both have issues,” she said. 

“Good point.” He moved her away from the wall and set her down and started shucking the fleecy garment. Sylvia tossed off the housecoat, shed her tank top, and kicked her panties to the side in the time it took him to get naked again. 

“Mmm-mmm,” he said, taking a moment to stare. “Just as sexy as ever.” 

“You look good, too,” she said, staring hungrily. They kissed again, hands wandering everywhere. Sylvia started walking them toward the couch, but Gabriel grabbed her hips and stopped her. 

“Broken glass,” he said. “Real buzzkill.”

“Upstairs?” she suggested. 

“Dining table’s closer” 

She only hesitated for half a second before pulling him through the archway toward it. 

The dining room was tiny, really just the other half of the living room. It was scarcely big enough for a six-person table, a hutch, and a few side tables with Sylvia’s nicer dining pieces. The table itself was smoothly polished and covered with a yellow plaid linen tablecloth. A vase held red carnations in the center and was flanked by salt and pepper shakers and the napkin holder. These Gabriel swept to the floor with a dramatic crash, and he laid Sylvia out on the table. 

“I’ll fix it tomorrow,” he said as he crawled over her and began kissing his way down her body. 

“...that’s fine…” she said weakly, so beyond caring about household goods. His tongue swirled over her stomach, interspersed with kisses. One hand kneaded at a breast, the other slid up and down her thigh a few times and then began to finger between her folds. 

“Oh baby you are _dripping,_ ” he said. 

“You have that effect on m--mmmm, yes!” His fingers had slid easily to her clit and he was teasing it with delicate strokes. He sucked a bruise into the skin at the top of her hipbone and brought his other hand down to spread her open and slide fingers deep inside, achingly slowly. Sylvia whimpered. His fingers worked her over with delicate precision. But all too soon he was stopping, pulling them free. She made a disappointed noise.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you,” he said. He held her knees with either hand and pressed them open and up gently, and this time he dove in with his tongue. 

If his fingers had been pleasurable, his mouth was ten times better. Gabriel was a connoisseur of the finer tastes of the human experience and this was no exception. He licked her clit and teased his tongue around in circles. He sucked the salty, slippery fluid from her folds. He dipped his tongue inside, nosing at her clit as he did. But he kept returning to the careful attention to her clit, relearning all the moves that made her scream the most. 

He was doing this, and pumping two fingers in and out of her, when Sylvia felt the first tingles of an orgasm building, moving quickly towards a crescendo. “Gabe,” she whimpered. “Just like that. Just like that.” She clutched at the tablecloth and twisted it in her hands. “Unngh. Baby. So good. Ssso. Oh! Oh _yes!_ ” 

He looked up at her, never breaking his stride for a second. He worked her through it until her legs shook violently and she was gasping for air. 

“Beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss to her thigh. “Do you need a break?” 

“No break. I need you to fuck me.” 

“Oh good!” He crawled up her body and kissed her neck. “Cause I really want to get inside you. I am so hard for you, Sylvia.” She ran her hands down his side, reached between them and grasped his cock. He wasn’t kidding. Rock hard, thick, and pulsing with need for her. Gabriel bit his lip and whimpered at her touch. She stroked him a few times, relishing the feel in her hand, and the wordless sounds he was making, and then guided him into her. 

They both moaned together as he slid in, slowly at first, then with a snap of his hips he was all the way in. “Syl, oh sweetness,” he murmured against her hair. “You feel amazing. Is this good for you, kiddo?”

“So good,” she assured him, bringing her legs up and around him, taking him in deeper. Gabriel braced his arms against the table and thrust again, a little harder, and soon she was rocking against him on every thrust, little shivers going through her. The sensations were delicious, and seeing him above her, having him alive and with her again, was even better. She traced her fingertips over him, his chest, his shoulders, his arms, appreciating the strength of the muscles rippling there. 

“Switch it up, I wanna ride you,” she said suddenly. With practiced motions they moved, and soon she was straddling him, her hands braced against his, and taking him deeper than before. “Oh fuck, this is the stuff,” she groaned. 

She bit her lip and looked into those eyes, shining golden-brown even in the poor light, and it was all she could do not to say _words_ that were not ready to be said. Not like this. Maybe never. But she couldn’t help but feel it as she looked into his eyes, and then he leaned forward, nearly sitting up so he could kiss her. A quick, breathless little nip of a kiss, one after another, quick but tender, almost reassuring. 

“I’m getting close, sweets. Can I make you come again?” His fingers drifted down between them as she nodded, and he rubbed her as he thrust up into her. “Syl… Sylvia, so good,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers. She cried out, and he shouted and tensed up and spilled into her as she rocked down onto him. And then he was holding her face and kissing her, deeply and desperately as their heartbeats slowed. 

“Was that... kinda... what you were hoping for?” he asked once they’d caught their breath. 

“That’s a good start,” she said. “I mean… we could move this upstairs for rounds 2 through 7.” She shifted and they pulled apart, and he touched her forehead. Ahh, the magical clean-up; she’d really missed that perk too. Not that it was the most important thing, but it was nice.

“And cookies.” He climbed off the table and offered her a hand.

“You seriously want me to make you cookies now?”

“Nah, just grab the thin mints from the freezer.”

“Um.” 

Gabriel made a noise of faux-outrage. “You didn’t.”

“I thought you were dead! You weren’t going to eat them!” 

“Fickle,” he grumbled, with a twinkle in his eyes. He grabbed the crystal candy dish and headed up the stairs with it. “To make up for it you can suck me off while I eat m&m’s. Then I’ll spank you for your naughtiness.”

*

Dean was used to getting up early after rough nights, and this was hardly the roughest one on record for him. He woke up and stretched, and looked at the sleeping angel by his side, hogging the blankets, his dark hair a disastrous tangle on the pillow. Cas stirred a little when he leaned over to kiss his temple, but he was much less enthusiastic about the awakening process. 

“This sucks,” he grumbled. “Hangovers are stupid.”

“Sleep a little longer. I’ll bring you coffee.”

“That might suck less,” Cas admitted. Dean placed another kiss on his stubbly cheek and got up. 

By the time Dean had coffee ready, Cas had made his way up the stairs. His hair was still an adorable disaster, but his eyes were open and he was dressed. He dropped his backpack on the floor by the table and came up behind Dean and leaned on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him.

“Would you like to cook breakfast with me again?” he asked. “I thought I might try hash browns this time. Sylvia and Gabriel will no doubt be hungry.” 

Dean had been trying to avoid thinking about what Sylvia and Gabriel were up to, and had particularly been trying to unhear the muffled thumps and squeaks from upstairs. “Sounds great, babe. Let’s just… put some music on while we cook.” 

*

By morning, many rounds of sex and two hours of sleep later, Gabriel was feeling entirely back to himself. He was able to use his powers to summon up clothing: dark red jeans, a tight black t-shirt, and sneakers. He looked amazing. Sylvia threw on black leggings and an oversized purple sweater, and they ventured downstairs. 

Dean had the broom and dustpan and was sweeping up the broken glass in the living room. Castiel was putting a casserole dish on the dining table. The napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers had been picked up and placed on a side table, even the vase of carnations, though they looked a little worse for the wear. The tablecloth was still twisted sideways and decidedly wrinkled. Castiel had just smoothed it out a little and then set the table. Sylvia covered her mouth and faked a yawn to hide her mortified face.

“Good morning!” Castiel said. “I thought breakfast together would be nice before Dean and I head out. I made hash browns and cinnamon rolls.” He gestured toward the table.

“Not bad, Cassy,” Gabriel said, completely unfazed. “How’d you kids sleep? Which one of you got stuck on the lumpy-ass basement sofa, huh? Even my feet hang off the edge of that thing!”

Castiel frowned. “No one was on the sofa.” 

Dean gave a smug look and strolled up to Cas and slung an arm around his waist. “We slept just fine,” he said. “Didn’t we, sweetheart?” 

“Ohh,” Gabriel said. “Ohoho! Way to go, Cas! Aww, I’m so happy for ya.” He beamed proudly as they all sat down around the table. “Hey, if I’d known that Winchesters might go for angels… guess I might have to give Sam a call.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Sam’s got a girl,” Dean said gruffly. He gave Sylvia a sideways glance.

“Sylvia shares. Can’t Sam’s girl share?” Gabriel said, prying the middle cinnamon roll out of the pan.

“Sam’s girl is more likely to kick your ass,” Dean said with a scowl. 

“Ehhh. Oh well.” He sighed. “I have such a crush on that kid. I gotta show you a pic, Syl. He’s like twelve feet tall.” 

“Rowena’s running hell now,” Castiel said in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Aww, good for her,” Gabriel said warmly. “She should be good at that. Keep everyone on their toes.”

“And Jack is God, of course,” Dean said. 

Gabriel coughed. “ _What_? The kid?” 

“Yeah. Our kid,” Dean said proudly. “Your dad went psycho. It was not easy but Jack managed to defeat him.”

Gabriel’s expression clouded. “Dad’s dead?”

“Not as far as I know,” Dean said. “Unless he went and did something really dumb in his first five minutes of humanity.”

Gabriel let out a slow, deep sigh. Sylvia reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Do you think the kid might be okay with things if I… pop in for a visit? See if he needs a hand? Haven’t seen the old homestead in a hot minute.” 

Cas smiled. “Tell him hello from us when you do.” 

Gabriel squeezed Sylvia’s hand and looked over at her. “Would you mind if I do that? Not right away, maybe in a week or so?” 

She frowned in confusion. “I’ve never… I’ve never had an objection to you going when you want to go. I just want you to come back some time. You’re… we’re not… you and I, we don’t…”

“Well maybe not exactly, but… we could be… more along those lines…” he scratched the back of his neck and looked away. 

Dean and Cas exchanged a look, each challenging the other to say something first. Finally, Dean cleared his throat and said, “I recently learned how important it is to tell people… things. Just sayin’. Somethin’ to work on before hot wings galivants off again, maybe.” 

After breakfast, Sylvia and Gabriel walked out to the car with them. Hugs were exchanged all around. Sylvia squeezed Castiel tightly, not wanting to let him go. “You’d better text me all the time,” she said. “I want to hear everything. Come back soon, you two. And you,” she pointed at Dean. “Take good care of him.” 

“Oh, I will,” Dean said earnestly. “Trust me.” He and Castiel climbed into the Impala. 

Dean started the engine and turned to give Cas a quick kiss. “Time to go home, angel,” he said. 

“I’m already home,” Cas said softly, slipping his hand into Dean’s.

Dean smiled and squeezed his hand, and drove off westward toward the bunker.


End file.
